


Rhododendron Means Beware

by diaphanous87



Series: The Archer [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Gen, MGiT, Modern Girl in Thedas, Non-Inquisitor OC, Shit is Hitting the Fan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 23:08:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11473581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diaphanous87/pseuds/diaphanous87
Summary: Alexander Trevelyan has a couple of no good, very bad days. And feelings. Other Trevelyans are adding themselves to the mix. Brighid has weird feelings about things. Shit is going down.In Hushed Whispers/Champions of the Just remix.





	Rhododendron Means Beware

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Dragon Age.
> 
> I feel like I'm just screaming into the void and nothing is echoing back. Oh well, ever onward as the inspiration burns.

** Rhododendron Means Beware **

\---

**Wreaths of White Tulips**

_“Because what’s worse than knowing you want something, besides knowing you can never have it?” -James Patterson, The Angel Experiment_

\---

_Village of Haven, 9:41 Dragon, Harvestmere_

_ Alexander Trevelyan, reluctant Herald of Andraste _

Alexander Maxwell Trevelyan was a fourth son. He had never expected much of anything in regards to his life beyond choosing between joining the clergy or becoming a Templar. Thankfully he had done neither, preferring the life of a local mercenary. It had horrified his mother dreadfully who had hoped to make an advantageous marriage match to get him out of her house.

Two of his older brothers, who were not Robin the all important heir, had joined the Templars. They had been Knight-Captains. Miles had been stationed at Ostwick because he was the second eldest son, thus the spare to Robin’s heirdom. Jason had been stationed in Antiva. But though they were highly ranked, they had not been chosen to go by their commanders or by Bann Nicholas Trevelyan to represent their family at the Conclave.

Instead, because Alex was basically free of all proper noble duties, the youngest Trevelyan son had been ordered to accompany Cousin Isolde, a Chantry Mother newly appointed, and to be her guard at the Conclave. Sweet, liberal Isolde who believed only the best of people. Who wanted the mages to be treated as people, not animals or monsters.

Cousin Isolde was dead now. And Alex was still a fourth son but with a title so heretical that his mother refused to even receive a single letter from him that said he was alive. It had been sent back unopened. And Maker knows, his father wouldn’t have even known about the letter without his mother’s approval. Alex was a footnote to Bann Trevelyan, an extra fourth son unneeded. He would not be waiting with bated breath for word about his youngest. And he most likely shared his wife’s opinion about this horrid title bestowed upon his son. And he had no idea if Miles and Jason were with the other templars and Lord Seeker Lucius.

“Everything is a mess,” Alex muttered, scrubbing his unmarked hand through his chocolate colored hair. And now with the situation with Former Grand Enchanter Fiona… damn her, what a foolish, desperate thing to do. He paced his cabin, thinking. And though he knew his brothers wouldn’t want him anywhere near them, Alex worried for them as well. He hadn’t seen them at Val Royeaux with the other templars. Were they following along with this madness? Were they dead? But after his mother’’s rejection, he didn’t dare write to either one.

But he loved his brothers, even snotty Robin, though they certainly seemed to not feel the same way. He stopped in front of his only window and slammed his hands on either side of it, rattling the glass. He bowed his head. Alex ignored the tears dripping from his face.

What was he supposed to do?

\---

_ Brighid McCullough, stranded and transformed otherworlder _

“... Beyond this place of wrath and tears/Looms but the Horror of the shade,…” Brighid softly recited. It was one of the few poems she truly remembered from back home. “And yet the menace of the years/Finds and shall find, me unafraid…” It was almost like a prayer whispered to keep the nightmares at bay. She finished the poem in a breathy voice, almost inaudible to her own ears. “...I am the master of my fate;/I am the captain of my soul.” Those last lines were a reminder. She didn’t want to be consumed by this place, by these circumstances. She refused anything resembling destiny and fate.

The elf stood up from where she was crouched in a shadowed corner outside of the tavern. Brighid had needed a moment of peace. It was not the Chant and she would never quote any part of that but “Invictus” was calming to recite.

Rumors were flying fast about the choice their Herald was facing right now. Templars or mages? Alliance or conscription? Either way, they needed someone to aid him in closing the Breach. And all of the companions were divided as well in opinion. It was a mess. And everyone knew Trevelyan had brothers in the Order so many were saying he would go to them. But others knew about Fiona’s bargain with Tevinter and the magister that had supplanted the Arl of Redcliffe, parking his smarmy self in the Arl’s seat. It was basically a mini Tevinter invasion and the Ferelden crown was taking a long time to actually act. And on top of that, because of Fiona, the Herald had to negotiate with the magister for mage aid if he went that route.

“I have no reason to be stressed compared to him,” Brighid said to the empty air, her face twisting as she realized she was talking to herself. “Shit, I need a drink.”

\---

_ Alexander Trevelyan _

Alex strode through Haven, a thunderous expression on his face. People scrambled out of his way, startled but ignored. Another circular argument had occurred in the war room and he left before he set the whole Chantry on fire with one of the candles in a pique of rage. He stomped out of the main gates of the village proper. He was headed for Hunter Brighid’s favorite spot, the other dock of Haven’s pond-lake by the druffalo, not the training grounds. Rams scattered as he went beyond the secondary walls behind an abandoned cabin where he had found a researcher’s notes for Adan.

And then he spotted her sitting, with knees drawn up to her body, on a rock above the start of the dock; the shortest elf woman Alex had ever seen. But Maker, she was pretty. Raven black hair that was usually pulled back into a different kind of braid each day was loose and curly today. Only the very tips of her long and elegant ears peeked out from her hair. Gray eyes so pale that they disconcerted even in broad daylight were closed as she soaked up the meagre sunlight that was nearly outcompeted by the green light of the Breach. The sight of her caused Alex to finally relax. The anger just drained away upon seeing her peaceful face. He didn’t know what it was about her that made him so calm. Maybe it was because of her soothing sense of practicality in the face of adversity. Even if she did almost puke on his boots one time at the Fallow Mire. He was sure it was the smell of the place, it was for him.

“Brighid…” the youngest Trevelyan son sighed, making the climb up to be next to her.

Brighid cracked open her eyes to look at him when he sat beside her. “Hey, there. How are you feeling?” She raised her head from where she was resting it on her raised up knees. She seemed to care more about his wellbeing than his decision-making skills at the moment.

Alex appreciated the fact that she didn’t even bring up the mages or the templars. “Tired. Angry.” He sighed harshly through his nose. “I don’t know what to do.” Instead he brings it up in a roundabout way.

“Are you asking me for advice?” She asked, blinking.

“Yes. No. Maker, I don’t know!”

“Easy, there, Lord Herald,” she soothed, patting his shoulder and then snatching her hand back from touching him.

“It’s Alex,” he muttered, furrowing his eyebrows.

“I know. But I am a professional.”

Alex cracked a smile. “I noticed,” he replied. “But… when it’s just us please call me Alex or by the Void, Alexander if you must.” He sighed and tilted his head back to stare at the clouds in the sky. “Sometimes I think I’m going to forget my name one of these days. It’s always, Lord Herald or Herald or Your Worship or any other titles that people insist on shoving onto my shoulders. It’s tiring. I miss being just Alex the fourth Trevelyan son turned mercenary.” He looked at her, straightening his neck.

“I see.” Brighid stared back, as always unrepentant in her direct gaze. “Alexander Trevelyan of the Inquisition.” She nodded. “I’ll remember that.”

“You know… I cannot quite place your accent. It’s almost a Free Marches accent but almost Ferelden too.” He grinned. “Then again you did say you lived in the middle of nowhere for nearly all your life and spent seven years running around the Hinterlands. I suppose that would affect your accent. Sorry, that was completely off topic. Wait… what was the topic again?”

The elf laughed hard, full lips stretched wide in an amused open smile. “Advice,” she wheezed. “Were you asking for advice? Or just a listening ear?”

The older rogue smiled helplessly. “I don’t know. Everyone else has given me advice but not you. Yet, at the same time I don’t want advice anymore.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I just… had to find you, I suppose.”

Clear gray eyes stared at him. “Perhaps you wanted some peace and quiet,” she said softly. “This is a good place for it.”

“But you make it better,” Alex insisted, kicking his outstretched legs on the boulder they were perched on. “I don’t know why.”

“I suppose…” Brighid paused, staring out across the frozen water. “I suppose it’s because I demand nothing of you.”

“Demand nothing of me…”

“Yeah. You got enough on your plate and I need nothing other than what I provide for myself.” She smiled sardonically. “I am a hobo with excellent survival skills.”

“You’re not a hobo!”

“Silly, don’t get so huffy.” The archer shrugged. “I have no home, no family, nothing beyond what I can carry myself. It’s freeing but lonely. Yet, it is my life. I demand nothing of you because I have no wish to do so.”

“But you have us. Me. Varric. Sera. Mother Giselle even. And Solas too, I suppose.” Alex was grumpy at the thought of Solas’ interest.

“And what happens when the Inquisition is done?” Brighid asked gently.

“You can… You could go… Err..” Alex trailed off.

“Exactly. Hey, don’t make that face. It’s so sad. I’m fine as I am. If nothing else, the lake calls,” she said, referencing the abandoned cabin at Lake Luthias where they had once found Blackwall since she hadn’t been there in the time after the Breach.

“You could come home with me!” The man blustered, now completely embarrassed. A blush overtook his whole face as Brighid gawped at him.

“You’re mad,” she breathed out, eyes wide.

Alex puffed up, looking the like the epitome of offended manhood. “No, I’m not. I may not be the Trevelyan heir but I have my own money and my own home in Ostwick. I would welcome you as friend. Even as… well…” He deflated, realizing he almost said as his something else he could not put a name to yet, especially aloud. “Andraste strike me down,” he moaned, covering his flushed face with both hands. He didn’t notice how close his Mark was to his nose.

“I… umm…” Brighid apparently had no idea how to respond to that strange, unfinished declaration of something. She squeaked when he scrambled to stand up on top of their boulder.

“I have to go!’ He declared, leaping down and running off.

“What the fuck…?”

\---

“What the fuck?!” Alex whisper-screamed to himself as he slammed his cabin door closed. “Maker kill me where I stand!” He leaned back against the door and slid down to his rump. His green eyes were unblinking with embarrassed horror.

He almost confessed feelings to her! And he wasn’t even sure what those feelings are either!

“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” He slammed his head back against his door every time he said the word. “STUPID!”

\---

**Wreaths of Lobelia**

_“Because we focused on the snake, we missed the scorpion.” -Egyptian proverb_

\---

Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth.

“Grumbly, you need to calm yer tits,” Sera said, kicking her little feet in the air as she sat sideways in her chair leaning back. One arm was thrown over the back of the chair and the other was laying across her stomach. “Unless yer just as squicked as I am ‘bout mages coming. Ugh, magicky shite is shite.”

“I should have gone with them,” Brighid replied as she kept pacing by Sera’s table in the tavern. Several others nervously watched her pace but turned away when her gaze scanned the tavern. “I should have volunteered.”

“Nah, ole Shiny-hand wanted His Elfy Baldness at his back with Seeker Dragonkiller and Vint de Sparkle. They’re fine, yeah?” Sera’s grimace said otherwise but she didn’t give word to her doubts. Brighid was doing that enough for both of them.

“I have a bad feeling about this.”

“Vints give everyone bad feelings,” the blonde dismissed airily. “Trev will straighten those bastards out licketysplit. You’ll see.” She hopped out of her seat and grabbed the other girl’s hand. “Come on, yer making these arseholes nervous. Let’s go hang out by Varric’s fire. Bet he has a story or two if we ask?”

“I…” Brighid looked at the others in the tavern and saw the truth in Sera’s words. “You’re right. Let’s go. Varric’ll be pleased to have an audience.”

\---

Splash!

Alexander groaned and coughed, lurching out of the water he had fallen into after whatever magic Alexius used on him and Dorian. He vaguely heard some Venatori curse as they charged at him. He could also vaguely hear his Tevinter companion behind him readying an offensive spell. A snarl twisted his lips and he charged into the fray, Between him and Dorian, the Venatori were killed quickly.

“Time travel, we time-traveled?” Alex sighed after Dorian’s theorizing on what was happening. “Well, shit.” He was damp and tired and surrounded by red lyrium. What a fucking mess. “I take it that as Alexius’ former apprentice you can undo this?”

“Exactly!” Dorian cheered, looking oddly pleased by the whole thing. “But to think that this actually worked, even though Alexius and I had agreed to never bring such to fruition…”

“Dorian.”

“And of course we’ll have to write down some observations…”

“Pavus, please…”

“It’s all rather exciting…!”

“Dorian Pavus!!” Alex grabbed the Vint by the front buckles of his robes. He shook him lightly but pointedly. He then pulled him close and up so that they were exactly nose to nose. And Dorian was not a short man to begin either. “Shut. Up.”

“Got it!” The mage squeaked, suddenly intimidated by the taller, broader man.

“Let’s find out when we are and where Alexius and his amulet is.” The rogue dropped his companion. “And then we can get the fuck back to Haven.”

“A sound idea, my lord.”

\---

Everything was wrong. It was all wrong. The Breach had overtaken the sky. Red lyrium was growing out of people and Redcliffe Castle itself. Cassandra and Solas were being consumed by red lyrium as well. And Leliana had been tortured and experimented on. The group stopped for a bit of a rest.

“Leliana, a word, please?” Alex called softly to the much diminished spymaster. Her ragged face turned toward him and she nodded. They stepped away, ignoring the others’ curious gazes. “Leliana, I know… you don’t want to talk about the details of what has happened but I…” He looked at her with watery eyes. “Please, Brighid… is she? Maker… did she escape?”

What little pity Leliana had left caused the hard line of her mouth to soften in almost sympathy. “No, Alex. She fought…” She paused and sighed. “She tried to keep me safe and paid the price. And now you must stop this before it begins. I will give no more.” She walked away from him.

Alex stood there for a moment, staring at nothing. His resolve hardened. He may not know the name of his feelings for Brighid but he would do everything in his power to make it back to his present to figure it out. And he would stop this all, Maker or not.

“Herald?” Cassandra questioned in her strangely doubled voice as he joined them.

“It’s nothing, Cassandra. Thank you.” The rogue assessed his companions and nodded. “Let’s go. Leliana, where is the great hall?”

“This way.”

\---

Alex felt nothing when Leliana slit Felix’s throat. He felt nothing when he dealt the final blow to Gereon Alexius. He simply yanked the amulet from around the corpse’s neck and shoved it into Dorian’s hands. And he refused to feel anything when he watched the others die before he and Dorian disappeared from that doomed reality.

Not yet. He could not break just yet.

\---

Rage burned bright in Alexander’s green eyes. Before anyone could stop him, he slammed a hard fist into Alexius’ face. Dorian was squawking in protest as Alex felt the crunch of bone and the squish of the magister’s face. Felix just gaped as the Herald confiscated the time-traveling amulet and crushed it beneath his boot. A small sputter of magic was the only sign of its death.

“He deserved that,” Alex spat. Then he swung his glare around to a cowering Fiona. “And you…” Before he could give her a blistering tirade, the doors of the hall slammed open. Knights trooped in, lining the hall. And then a couple wearing crowns strolled in, visible scowls on their faces. And so the King and Queen of Ferelden finally acted themselves though a little too late in Alex’s opinion.

Finally everyone looked to him to make another choice about the mages themselves.

“Enchanter Fiona,” Alex intoned coldly. He refused to add the word ‘grand’ to her title. The only thing grand about her was her audacity. “I am in need of mages to help me close the Breach that threatens this world. I would take them with me to Haven. However I am no slaver and conscription is only a fancier word for slavery. You’ve already sold your people once.”

“Ouch…” the King muttered, grunting when his Queen elbowed him.

“As such, you cannot be trusted to act in the best interest of the vulnerable within your… dubious care. If anything, I should clap you in irons and give the leadership of your people to someone else, perhaps First Enchanter Vivienne?”

“You can’t…!”

“I am not done!” He thundered, his voice filling the stone hall. He ignored the entertained look on the Ferelden king’s face. “However, I will not do that. Bring me your Second. I will not negotiate with you. You gave away the right already.” He turned away from the sputtering elf, surveying the mages that stood in the hall in scattered groups. They stared back afraid except for one.

“I am her Second,” a female mage said, stepping forward. She was the only one to not show any fear. She only raised her eyebrows when Fiona glared at her. She bowed to him. “Cousin, it is an honor. I am First Enchanter Evelyn Trevelyan formerly of the Hossberg Circle. My mother was your father’s second cousin.”

Surprise caused Alex to arch a brow at her. “Well met, then, Enchanter Evelyn. Would you speak for your people? Have they consented to your leadership?” He asked.

“Yes.” And no one mage behind her disagreed. “We are besieged by poor leadership and poorer prospects.” She bowed again. “I ask at least mercy for the children among us and the apprentices.”

“That I will grant,” Alex said, ignoring the knights that manacled the defeated Fiona. The former Grand Enchanter let herself be led away with nary a protest from the ones she previously led. “Children should not bear the burdens of adults. And the rest of you? An alliance, yes? And safe passage to Haven.”

Evelyn Trevelyan looked him straight in the eye. “The Breach threatens us all, as you stated beforehand. Gladly would we help if only to show that we are not wild animals howling at the moon at the first taste of freedom. Too many of my fellows had already done so and I will not permit that to continue among my people. We ask for mercy and a full alliance in exchange.”

“Agreed. You are wiser than your predecessor at least.”

“Herald?” Cassandra asked, looking at him with narrowed eyes. She scowled when he held up a hand to stop her.

“Peace, Seeker,” Alex said in a formal tone. He glanced at the king. “Sire?”

“Oh?” King Alistair gave a hard smile.

“Do you consent to this?”

“Will it get the mages out of my hair?” This time he dodged the elbow aimed at him. “We acknowledge these negotiations and consent to allow the mages to be quit of Our uncle’s holdings without harm done unto them.”

“And We formally extend Our gratitude,” Queen Anora spoke calmly, ignoring her husband’s antics, “to Lord Trevelyan of the Inquisition in your aid of sealing many of the rifts scattered throughout Our lands and for easing the suffering of Our people.” She regally bowed her head.

“Your Queenship is most gracious and I am honored by your thanks,” Alex spoke slowly, trying to remember his lessons. He bowed deeply to her, much to the amusement of the king. “Truly, we of the Inquisition would offer further aid concerning the other rifts scattered still throughout your lands by your leave.”

“Thank you.” Queen Anora looked pleased. “We trust you can take care of the rest, Lord Trevelyan? We must call upon many of Our people and holdings.”

“Yes, your Majesty. We shall see to escorting the mages to Haven with your permission.” Alex bowed again. The monarchs swept out of the castle.

\---

 _Meanwhile_ …

Knight-Captain Miles Trevelyan, second born of Bann Nicholas Trevelyan, pressed a shaking hand to his bandaged side. Behind him, one hundred templars under his command marched slowly toward Haven from Therinfal Redoubt. On a litter, an unconscious Jason Trevelyan was being carried by two other templars.

Miles had known there was something wrong. The Lord Seeker had bid him and his brother to take a contingent of templars to Therinfal whilst the others went to Val Royeaux to confront his heretically titled baby brother. He followed orders as did Jason. And they paid the price. After voicing doubts to the Lord Seeker after his arrival at the ancient keep, they lost the trust of the Lord Seeker. Delrin Barris had added his voice as well to no avail. And then something started happening to many of his fellows within the Order. They became more aggressive and stank of rot. But still he stayed instead of taking his men and women to flee.

He was a dutiful Templar and a dutiful son.

“Keep moving!” He ordered to the ones behind him. They were all lagging but Haven was so close.

But duty had not saved any of them. Instead, after Jason discovered the murder of the Knight-Vigilant by Knight-Captain Denam, chaos and fighting broke out. Miles took any who did not stink of rot and glowed red and they fought their way out of Therinfal. Only he, Jason, and the one hundred knights behind him, which included Barris, made it out alive. And now they were going to arrive at Alex’s doorstep as beggars seeking asylum.

Miles hoped his brother was kinder than he.

\---

** End of Part Three **


End file.
